


An Appropriate Distance

by MsCFH



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F, the quarantine AU nobody asked for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:01:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23525023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsCFH/pseuds/MsCFH
Summary: They say that closeness has nothing to do with distance.The country is six days into a general lockdown when Sansa becomes acquainted with the woman living in the building across from her, and learns just how true that is.
Relationships: Sansa Stark/Margaery Tyrell
Comments: 60
Kudos: 290





	An Appropriate Distance

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Rumpabumbum for beta-reading this for me!

**Day 6 – 01:30**

Sansa awoke in the middle of the night thirsty. No surprise, she thought, groaning as she swung her legs out of bed and tapped through the darkness of her flat into her kitchen. She barely kept herself hydrated properly these days -rarely found the time for it- least of all during work; after getting home her energy lasted for no more than a shower, a quick meal of the takeout she’d picked herself up on her way home and —if she was lucky —thirty minutes of Netflix.

The previous evening’s twelve-hour shift and the thought that she’d have to do it all again in less than eleven hours had left her so to the bone exhausted that she’d skipped both eating and Netflix. Sleep and recharging her energy seemed the better option as opposed to clicking through Netflix for half an hour only to land on a show she’d already seen hundreds of times. 

Sansa took a big swig of water and looked out the window. Despite a few hours of sleep under her belt, she felt exhausted. She loved her job, even under these trying circumstances, but she did not know how long she could still go on working like this. This had been her eighth shift in a row. She’d had only one day off those eight shifts, and her next one was five days away, if she would get to take it at all. Sansa enjoyed working, and she was never one to shy away from hard work, but she was reaching her limit. 

Finishing her water, she went to refill her glass when she heard a tumbling noise coming through her cracked open kitchen window; followed by a door being torn open with too much force, the rumble of stumbling steps, the crash of something colliding with glass,and the huff of heavy, rapid breathing.

She spotted the silhouette of a woman out on the balcony with the first look out of her window. Long, disarrayed wavy hair concealed her face, she had one hand pressed against the window pane, her upper body crouched forward, slim shoulders shaking with heavy audible breaths.

Sansa was in medicine long enough to recognise a panic attack when she saw one, and she was a witness to a pretty bad one just now. The brunette’s hand scrambled along the window failing to finding the grip it was seeking, her other hand clawed at the collar of her pyjama top, trying to ease her breathing when she was already hyperventilating.

Just a couple of seconds watching her ached Sansa. Her own chest tightened with every badly contained breath, every hiccupping sob. Made it impossible just to standby and do nothing.

Sansa abandoned her glass on the kitchen counter and rushed to her bedroom, pulled the light white curtains back and wrenched the floor-length window open. 

Only a slim back alley separated the two buildings, and with her Juliet balcony being almost aligned with the opposite balcony, the woman was now less than two metres away from her.

“Hey!”

The woman didn’t acknowledge her, her posture remained the same with her head tilted forward, another strangled sob interrupting rapid breathing.

Maybe her voice was too quiet. Maybe the woman was too far gone in her anxiety. 

When a second call was ignored, Sansa sprung around and turned the lights of her bedroom on. Back at her window, her hands tightly around the metal balustrade in front of it, and she released a breath of relief when her prediction that this would draw attention to herself turned out correct.

A tear-streaked face looked at her, eyes narrowing as they adjusted to the light hitting them, and for a split second the surprise even halted her laboured breaths unfortunately not long enough. Instinctively the brunette turned away from her, tried to make it inside, her slender frame still trembling. 

“Wait,” Sansa demanded. She couldn’t just leave someone in that state on their own. 

She was relieved when the other woman actually halted her escape.

“I need you to look at me,” she requested sternly, stepping as close as the balustrade would allow her. When the woman didn’t comply, Sansa repeated it in a louder, more forceful tone. “Look at me!”

Eyes swollen from crying, a little wild and unable to focus in their persistent panic, flitted to Sansa.

Sansa held the woman’s gaze. “I know what you’re feeling is scary, but it’s not dangerous.” 

More tears streamed down the woman’s face as she shook her head and pressed a hand to her chest. 

“Focus on your breathing,” Sansa pressed. “Look at me and breathe with me.”

Releasing the handrail, Sansa started with the basic 4-7-8 breathing technique; her hands moving along to illustrate it better. She raised them slowly while breathing in slowly through her nose, counting to four. Through the count to seven she held her breath and released it through her mouth at eight, dropping her hands, and starting from the beginning.

It took a considerable number of repeats until the brunette followed her lead at all, and a good amount more until Sansa assessed that she was calming. She kept going for a while after that in the same pattern.

Breathe in - one, two, three, four. Hold – five, six, seven. Release – eight.

She only stopped when the woman’s face had relaxed, the grip she’d had on the material of her pyjamas had loosened.

“Are you feeling better?” Sansa asked, while she watched her run a hand through messy hair and wipe at her face.

“I don’t know.” She shook her head, her voice was hoarse and the suggestion of anxiety in the defined features had not disappeared altogether, but she rubbed two hands over her face with resolve. “I don’t feel like I’m dying anymore so... there’s that.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Sansa offered and received a decisive shake of the head in return. 

“No, that’s really-- no,” the brunette said and took a step back, forcing a tight smile, holding Sansa’s gaze. “I-- thank you, but I should not keep you up any longer.”

Before Sansa could object or reply, the brunette had turned around and disappeared into the darkness of her apartment, leaving Sansa to stare after her.

**Day 6 – 19:46**

The late-night encounter did not leave Sansa for the length of her entire next day. 

In the morning when her alarm had gone off, her first look had gone outside the bedroom window, searching for any sign of life in the flat across from hers, but it had come up empty. Everything in the outer appearance of the flat and the balcony looked like it always did; like it had for the month Sansa had lived there.

The small jungle of neatly arranged plants was in place, the bistro table and two chairs lined up; two decorative lanterns in the right upper corner of the window. A closer look inside to what Sansa supposed to be the living room was prevented by the morning light reflecting on the glass of the windows. 

Not even during her work, where any other day her focus remained exclusively on her patients,had she been able to shake her contemplations and growing concern. So much in fact, that she’d checked the ER’s incoming patients information for age, address, anything really that would have matched her neighbor. 

When she got home in the evening, she’d broken out of her routine of going directly for a shower and instead went into the kitchen and looked out the window, her eyes darting over the building across from her own.

She could see people moving around in almost all the other flats of the building, some already with their lights on, some sitting only in the light of the TV in their living room, others enjoying the leftover warmth of the day on their balconies. It was usually a sight that relaxed her, even spurred her imagination; a little bit like watching TV, seeing all those people go after their daily life. Watching her neighbours while she lay in bed at night had a strange way of calming her.

Only in the month she’d been living here, she’d never seen anyone in the flat across from her own. It clearly looked lived in, with the curtains, the plants and the furniture, but until last night she’d never seen anyone in there. And tonight was no different. The lights were out, the balcony was empty. 

Going into the shower Sansa contemplated, not for the first time, if she should call the police. It seemed drastic, because sure, if there were ever a time to have a panic attack in the middle of the night it was now and maybe it was none of her business, but didn’t finding her neighbour in such an upset state give her a responsibility of some sort?

When she’d been on her way home, she’d considered just ringing the doorbell, checking if everything was okay; with the not minor obstacle that she didn’t have name or flat number. 

She was still in the shower, in the middle of rinsing shampoo out of her hair when the doorbell rang and tore her from her thoughts. By the time she had turned off the water, covered up in her bathrobe, twisted her hair up in a towel, and looked through the peephole she found the corridor empty.

Whoever had rung the bell was already gone, but on the door knob she found a paper bag. Sansa frowned when she found a cardboard take-out container in it. Having delivered food left at your door was the new policy of Uber-Eats; only she had not ordered anything. 

Assuming a mistake, she still took the bag into her kitchen, searching for a delivery note that could give her a name. Instead, however, next to what she discovered to be a box from her favourite bakery down the street, she found a page taken from an order book, with a simple message scribbled on it.

_ Thank you for last night.  _

Instinctively, Sansa’s head shot around to the flat across from her own. As before the lights were off, but she found the balcony door open, the silhouette of a woman standing there. Figuring, hoping, that she could see her Sansa smiled and gave a wave of her hand. The other woman lingered for another moment and then she disappeared. 

**Day 8 – 20:20**

Sansa weighed the small ball in her hand, looking down at it and back to the building across the alley, again uncertain whether this was a good idea. 

From a practical point of view, the two-meter distance was not much of an obstacle, even if her aim was not the greatest.

Whether it was overstepping boundaries, that was another issue.

Three days had passed since the late night encounter with her neighbour, and she had not seen her since then except for that fleeting moment after she’d sent her the lemon cake as a thank you. Sansa had kept an eye out constantly when she was home, but the brunette was nowhere in sight. Not inside the apartment, not out on the balcony, no lights on, not even a movement of the curtains.

It was fair to assume that she was fine, that her anxiety attack that night had been a one time thing, but Sansa didn’t know that for sure, and that chafed her, as did the continuous darkness across the street.

Her fingers tightened around the rubber ball again as she looked into the dark flat. She wiped away last of her hesitance and swung her arm back and flung it, watching the ball land perfectly on the floor right in front of the balcony door, the small, folded-up, piece of paper still attached to it with a stripe of tape.

She’d written her two simple lines.

_ Thank you for the cake. _ _   
_ _ My offer to talk still stands. _

And her phone number. 

Perhaps she was overstepping boundaries, but even if her neighbour didn’t accept her offer to talk, if she was at home, she’d find the ball and pick it up. At this point, Sansa was fine with just having any sign of life from herin order to move on.

With the means to stop pondering about it, Sansa gathered a colorful collection of junk-food she’d scoured from the depths of her pantry and went to her living room, turned on Netflix and fell onto her couch.

The unpleasant sound of her phone vibrating on the couch table woke her four episodes into her favourite sitcom, the TV screen displaying the question if she was still watching. 

“Hello?” Her voice sounded hoarse when she answered the unknown number. Remains of images from a confusing dream were still in her mind as she sat up on the couch.

“Oh no, I woke you.”

Rubbing at her eyes, Sansa chuckled. “Is it that obvious?”

“Yes,” came the woman’s response from the other line. “I’m sorry.”

Awake enough now to perhaps not recognize the voice, but at least have a clearer idea who she was talking to, Sansa pushed the warm blanket off her legs, a shiver running through her when she stood up. “It’s fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” Sansa confirmed. 

“I wasn’t sure whether it was too late to call, but I just found your message and I saw you still had lights on.”

That managed to erase the last doubts of whom she was talking to.

“It’s fine, really,” Sansa assured again, standing in the middle of her living room for a moment, uncertain what to do.

“I don’t want to keep you for long,” the woman’s voice sounded apologetic. “But I wanted to take the chance to thank you, again, for the other night.”

Slowly, as if she was sneaking around in her own flat, Sansa went into her corridor. Through the open kitchen door she threw a glimpse outside, finding her neighbour’s flat as dark as usual.

“I hope you are feeling better?” Sansa inquired gently while turning around going back into the considerably warmer living room. 

“Yes, I ---” She took a deep breath. “I mean, as good as to be expected. I’m taking it one day at a time.”

Sansa nodded, wiping her fingers over the dust that had collected on top of her TV. “Yes, that’s all any of us can do right now I guess.”

“I just wanted to let you know that I am okay,” she explained. “I get that I must have appeared pretty unhinged to you, but I am fine. The other night, that was, I don’t know, the shit icing on a bad day.”

Sansa wished that she could have faced her for this conversation, but something told her this was perhaps easier if she wasn’t looking at her. She sat down at her dinner table. “Can I ask what happened?”

There was a prolonged silence from the other end of the line that had Sansa holding her breath. “You don’t-- we don’t have to do this,” her neighbour said then, a hint more distance in her voice than before. “I have no need for counselling of any kind.”

“Good,” Sansa shot back unwavering. “I was not offering any.”

A soft chuckle emanated from the speaker and Sansa couldn’t help the small smile that triggered on her own lips. 

“Good thing we clarified that.”

Going against her every instinct Sansa pulled one leg up on the chair and wrapped her arm around it, sitting out the silence that followed. This was not something she could pressure on. If she wanted to talk about it great, but it was not something she could force.

“It’s just overwhelming I guess,” came the quiet admittance a couple of seconds later. “Everything that is happening right now.”

“It is,” Sansa agreed. 

She didn’t require her to say more or explain more. It was this universal feeling that hung in the air. Part of why no matter how draining those long days at work were she appreciated having them. Then she felt like she was actively doing something that would make a difference in all of this. It offered distraction from everything that could still come. 

“I’m Margaery, by the way.”

She smiled. “Sansa.”

“Well, Sansa,” Margaery’s tone prepared her for being dismissed. “It was nice talking to you.”

She couldn’t help the twinge of disappointment that spread through her chest, even when she had no real explanation for it. This had been the purpose of her message, right? She’d wanted to know that she - _ Margaery _ \- was okay, and now she had that confirmation. 

“Likewise,” Sansa returned. 

“Again, thank you, and try to stay safe.”

“You too.”

Sansa sat there for a while after they had ended the call, staring into the TV screen where the next episode of her favourite sitcom waited to be started. The disappointment wouldn’t quite leave her and stayed with her throughout turning the TV and living room lights off. 

In her bedroom, like the past two nights, she stood in front of her window, gripping the material of the curtain tightly. It had woven into her nightly routine – pulling back the curtain, opening the window and looking into the apartment across from her own, searching for any sign of her, of Margaery. Now that she knew she was over there, having talked to her, knowing that she was okay, there was no need for it anymore. 

Still, curiosity got the better of her and the smile spread over her face as soon as she’d drawn back the curtain. 

Out there, between numerous potted plants, with a candle lit on top of the small round table, sat Margaery. She was smiling back at her, and it gave Sansa the courage to open one of the double window doors.

“Inner-poise,” Margaery said raising the steaming cup she was holding, smirking at the incomprehension that became evident on Sansa’s face. “The tea. The package said it’s supposed to help with recovering your inner poise.”

“Is it helping?”

The brunette took a sip and then shrugged. “I’ll let you know.”

Sansa nodded, still smiling. “Please. We could all use some inner-poise these days.” In a not altogether smooth gesture, she raised her hand in a hinted wave, then wrapped her fingers around the handrail. “Well, good night.”

Across from her the lopsided smirk never wavered. “Good night,  _ Sansa _ .”

**Day 9 – 19:55**

When Sansa reached out to open her kitchen window she almost believed her own excuse that she needed to let the food smell out that lingered after cooking dinner and that her neighbour stepping out on her balcony just a couple of minutes earlier was nothing more than a coincidence.

Margaery had sat down in a motion that appeared like a very well-practiced and elegantly executed balancing act given that she was holding a blanket wrapped around herself, a glass of wine in one hand, a book in the other. And Sansa had just barely avoided burning herself with boiling pasta water because she had not been able to tear her eyes away in that moment.

“Whatever you’re having, I want it,” Margaery told her without bothering with greeting, closing her eyes as the scents reached her. “God, that smells good.”

Sansa smiled over her shoulder while she stirred the marinara into the pasta. “It might be enough for two.”

Margaery raised an eyebrow. “Very convenient offering to share when you know you don’t have to go through with it.”

With a chuckle, Sansa placed a lid on the pot and turned to Margaery with two hands braced on the kitchen counter below the window. “A fortunate constellation, indeed.” She watched as Margaery took a sip from her wine and bit away a smile. “No inner-poise tonight?”

“No,” came the answer straight away and Sansa could see that she was smiling too. “Going for something more conventional tonight, that will actually help me sleep.”

“So no ‘would recommend this product’ for the tea?”

“Definitely not,” Margaery shot back, placing the glass of wine down on the table with a bit too much enthusiasm and a drop landed on the surface. “I spent an hour today writing a five hundred word online review with all the reasons why not.”

Sansa chuckled, turned halfway, took a glass out of the cabinet and poured some water out of her water filter into it. “They do say that the lockdown gives you the time for all the things you’ve always wanted to do.”

Margaery huffed and took a sip of her wine. “I would have found the time for this in a fourteen-hour workday.”

“That must have been some excruciatingly bad tea.”

Margaery placed her glass down and leaned back in her chair, pulling her blanket tight. “I will send you the link to my comment on the company’s website,” she promised. “Just in case you ever suffer from insomnia.”

On cue, a yawn worked itself out of Sansa and they both chuckled. 

“I see. No problems with that for you. Long day?”

Yawning again, Sansa pressed the back of her hand to her mouth. “At the end of a long month.”

Margaery’s frown was visible even through the distance. “Today is the fifth.”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“Can I ask your line of work?” 

Suddenly aware again of just how heavy her legs felt, Sansa pushed herself up on the kitchen counter and sat with her legs crossed and back leaned against the opened window facing Margaery.

“I am doing my fellowship at the university hospital. Intensivist for internal medicine.”

“Oh wow.”

Sansa huffed a chuckle and with a hand on the back of her neck rolled her head back and forth a couple of times. “Yeah, exactly that.”

“That explains you being out of the house all day,” Margaery mused. “System-relevant occupation.”

With a roll of her eyes Sansa reached out and pulled the pot from the still warm stove plate. “I hate that term,” she bit out. “System-relevant. It sounds like straight out of a dystopian novel.”

“I guess it kinda does,” Margaery nodded, looking to the ground, her expression thoughtful when her eyes darted back in Sansa’s direction. “Can I-- I mean...how bad is it?”

Sansa considered a moment how to word it. She didn’t want to lie to her, but with someone who’d had a panic attack only a couple of days ago because all that was going on had overwhelmed her, Sansa chose not to be too honest about the direness that was her work recently.

“We’re holding up,” she said vaguely. “I mean, our unit is thankfully not at its maximum capacity. We are chronically understaffed, now more than ever, but… we are hoping that the lockdown still came in time to prevent the worst.”

The silence on the line fell heavy between them, as Margaery twisted her glass by them stem, her lips pursed. Concerned by the tense expression in Margaery’s face Sansa added in a liberally light tone, “But just two more days and I will have a full day off. So there’s that silver lining.”

“A whole day, huh?” Margaery’s weak smile was not close to reaching her eyes. “Are you sure you won’t get bored?”

Sansa chuckled and gratefully noticed how Margaery’s smile broadened as well. “It will be a challenge for sure.”

“No exciting plans then?”

“Depends on how exciting you find a cleaning spree.”

With a shake of her head Margaery brought her wine glass to her lips, a sparkle of amusement in her eyes. “You know, the rest of us just sleep in on our days off? Relax?”

“Cleaning is relaxing to me,” Sansa returned and leaned a little out the window wiping two fingers along the outer frame that was in dire need of a scrub.

Narrowed eyes took her in for a long moment. “You’re making me anxious.”

Sansa shot her a look. “Because you can’t be bothered to do any cleaning?”

Margaery’s eyes narrowed further. “No. Well, yes. But what I mean is it makes me anxious to watch you balancing on your window ledge with nothing but ground five stories down to catch your fall.”

Sansa bit her lower lip and glanced down and then back to Margaery. She didn’t have a problem with heights, but it was sort of endearing that Margaery did on her behalf. 

She was tempted to tease her, but did not want to be the reason for unneeded anxiety, so Sansa shifted a few centimetres to her left, away from the open window.

“Thank you.”

“So, what do you do for a living?”

“I am afraid it’s not nearly as impressive.”

“Yes, well most jobs fall short in comparison to my system-relevant occupation,” Sansa said dryly, a small smile coming to her face when Margaery laughed.

“I’m in PR.”

Sansa nodded, even if the statement was too vague to get an idea of what exactly she was doing. Still, ever striving to keep their conversation going, she took a shot in the dark. “So is that where your aversion to false advertising comes from?”

“Actually that was mostly a matter of principle.”

**Day 9 – 12:33**

“I don’t get it,” Sansa exclaimed as the credits appeared on her screen. “That’s it? That’s the end of the movie?”

Sansa was lying on top of her bed, stomach down and shot a dumbfounded look out her window to where Margaery had taken the chance of the warm spring temperatures to do her work on her balcony and was now looking up at her with an amused expression on her face. “Not satisfactory to you?” 

“No!” she exclaimed, gesturing to the open laptop. “I mean… two hours of back and forth, of discussion, pining and angst and then they don’t even get together?”

Placing her notebook aside and closing her laptop, Margaery crossed her legs and smiled. “The ending is actually my favourite part.”

Sansa made a face and rolled onto her side, her head propped up on her elbow. “You like unhappy endings.”

With a small smile Margaery shook her head. “No. I like realistic endings. There is not always a clear resolution in life. Sometimes things just end. People walk in and out of your life without it having a deeper purpose; friendships, relationships end and there is no bigger life lesson to take from it. That bittersweet taste is what I like.”

Even though Sansa understood what she meant, and was perhaps the tiniest bit intrigued she shook her head. “I get what you are saying, but I prefer my movies with happy endings. Especially right now we have enough reality all around us.”

“Fair enough,” Margaery conceded with a mild smile. “If you’ll take another recommendation from me then I will come up with something more light hearted next time.”

“One more chance,” Sansa decided with a feigned considerate face. “Make it a good one.”

“I will bring my a-game,” she promised solemnly. For a moment her eyes fitted down to where she tapped her fingers on her closed computer, then back up to Sansa. “The ending aside, didn’t watching a movie beat going on a cleaning spree?”

In all fairness, Sansa had gotten up this morning with the very best intentions of going through with her plans to clean. As a first act, after having her morning coffee, she cleared off the kitchen counter below the window and opened it wide, giving the frame the thorough dusting it needed. That had been about as far as she had gotten, because a minute later Margaery had stepped out onto her balcony wrapped in a silken dressing gown, her curls up in a messy bun on her head, chiding her that she could not be serious to really spend her free day cleaning. 

It had taken a good amount of nagging from Margaery to get her to abandon the much needed housework, but in the end she had caved.

Despite the dust collecting on surfaces, the furniture tops needing a wipe down… alone looking around in her bedroom now, she found easily five things that bothered her. With her next day off a week away and she just knew this mess would grow a little bit every day, agitate her a bit more every day.

So, no, watching a movie with a frustrating ending was not precisely the better option. 

That particular answer died on her lips when her eyes landed back on Margaery, the way she hadn’t let her out of her sight.

“Maybe,” Sansa allowed with a half-smile. 

**Day 16 – 20:25**

“Going to the pub for open mic night,” Margaery said after a moment of contemplation. “It’s always so crowded you hardly manage to get through without spilling your drink all over yourself, but it’s such a great atmosphere.”

“Going to the theatre,” Sansa returned with a smile, playing with the material of the pillow she was sitting on. “I love that small historic one on main street. They have had the same show for twenty years and I’ve seen it at least eight times already.”

“Going to my spin class,” was Margaery’s next idea. “Though I’m a bit afraid of just how out of shape quarantine will have left me.”

Sansa chuckled and placed the empty wine glass on the floor next to herself. She was sitting on a pillow on the floor, her back propped against the opened window. They’d been doing this for the last two hours; Sansa sitting by her bedroom window, Margaery on her balcony, both initially enjoying the last rays of the evening sun and throwing back and forth all those things that they would do once this lockdown was over. 

“I miss going swimming,” Sansa sighed. “Usually I did fifty laps before work at least three times a week.”

“Before work? That’s insane.”

Sansa shrugged. “Yes, so I’ve been told.”

“I can’t wait to go to the beach again. My brother and his husband have a house right by the sea. You wake up with the sound and the smell of the ocean.” 

“You should have quarantined there.”

“Believe me, it’ll be my first trip once travelling is allowed again.”

Sansa nodded, even though she couldn’t say that she liked the prospect of not having Margaery here to talk to anymore. Idly her fingers touched the book she’d been reading, that laid untouched in this spot for a good week now. Even in the week before she’d not read more than ten pages in it. Relaxing in bed at night with a good book or binging a show on Netflix had been replaced by sitting at her open window and talking to Margaery. Talking to her in nearly every free minute of her day had become something so natural as if they’d never done anything else. 

There was just something about talking to Margaery… she made it easy to forget, easy to feel her own age, easy to talk about other things, normal things.

All everybody spoke about everywhere was that damn virus, the pandemic and the subsequent lockdown. From news articles and memes all over every inch of social media, to her colleagues at work discussing the impact, to monitors in the subway reporting and reminding about new restrictions, even when video chatting with her family or friends it was the all-embracing topic.

With Margaery it was like an unspoken rule that discussions about the real world, about all the bad things happening right now, was off limits. Talking to Margaery was fun, it was easy. It was something Sansa looked forward to throughout her whole day, every day.

“And right after that to the flower shop,” Margaery said, reaching out to touch the leaf of one of her plants. “Some of these are in dire need of some repotting.”

“I’ll probably go to the cinema,” Sansa gave back. “I don’t even care what movie, I’m just really craving cinema snacks.”

“I know this ice cream shop that is to die for, I can’t wait to take you there. They have this lemon cake flavour that is the best thing you will have ever tasted.”

Sansa took her in for a long moment, unable not to smile at the enthusiasm she spoke with. She was enthralled by the prospect that Margaery was making plans for the both of them. 

A second thereafter she tilted her head. “Lemon cakes are my favourite.”

Margaery lowered her eyes, a small smile playing on her lips and then she looked directly at Sansa with something in her eyes that caused butterflies to erupt in Sansa’s stomach.

“I know.”

Sansa blinked in incomprehension, searching her mind, trying to remember if she had mentioned this before. She was sure that she hadn’t.

“I saw you once in the coffee shop down the street,” Margaery disclosed then, an almost shy quality to her voice. “You were in line in front of me and told the barista that they were your favourite.”

Sansa stared at her for a moment with an open mouth. “When was that?”

Drawing a finger over the rim of her glass Margaery thought about it. “A couple of weeks ago? Not too long before they declared the lockdown.”

“And…” Sansa was still a bit perplexed, though in the most positive sense. “You remembered me?”

With less shyness than before Margaery smirked. “Who wouldn’t remember a pretty girl like you?”

**Day 20 – 7:20**

Sansa was not a fan of doing night shifts, never had been. If she could avoid it she never did more than her five mandatory shifts a month.

For one, they went cruelly against her natural rhythm of waking up and getting to bed early. Also, the workload was unpredictable at best and the team a lot of times was even more understaffed than during the day.

However, she had dreaded the upcoming ones of this month for different reasons, which did not even have to do with the current situation. What caused the switch from seeing working at night as a necessary evil to wondering how she’d ever make it through those was something else entirely.

Five night shifts meant five evenings when she’d be robbed off spending time with Margaery. No nightly conversations, no shared glasses of wine. Sansa’d be lucky to see her at all, and that was only if she managed to get up at a reasonable time. 

Or so she had thought. 

When she arrived home after her first night, and found a bottle of wine delivered to her doorstep, her mood had gone from exhausted to bewildered. The transition to pleasantly surprised was a seamless one when a moment later she found that Margaery was already awake, waiting out on her balcony with a glass of her own.

“So,” Margaery opened, raising her glass in a toast, once Sansa, freshly showered, plopped down on her usual spot by the bedroom window and poured herself a glass for herself. “How was your day?” 

“Don’t you mean night?” Sansa quipped, swirling her glass and taking in the scent of the wine. She was not much of a wine expert. She chose her wine more based on label design than vintage, but she had the suspicion that this particular bottle had not exactly been cheap.

“Don’t be that person,” Margaery rebuked unimpressed. “You will go to bed soon so this is your evening. Hence, how was your day?“”

Through a smile, Sansa took a first small sip of wine, finding the taste absolutely exquisite, and told her all about the extraordinary thirty minutes tonight where she’d just sat there with her colleagues and talked absolute nonsense. Usually Sansa avoided sharing details about her work, but for the first time in a while she simply had a fun story to tell; a small piece of normality in a world where nothing was anymore.

When a while later Margaery picked up the bottle and refilled her glass, Sansa observed it sceptically, and, being on her second glass herself, her mouth was a tad quicker than her good verdict.

“Isn’t one glass enough for you?”

Margaery put the bottle down on the table, that crooked smirk firmly on her lips. “Didn’t know you were sponsoring me.”

“No,” Sansa shook her head quickly; despite Margaery looking more amused than appalled, wishing she’d never opened her mouth. Margaery was doing this for her. Sure, as far as sacrifices went, drinking early in the morning was not a very big one, but it was a very sweet and considerate gesture. “I just meant, don’t you have to start to work soon? Like now?”

She’d told her all about the presentation she was working on, how she was glad to finally have a project again to dig her teeth into, something that more than only bits and pieces, that would keep her busy.

“All done.”

Sansa looked at her puzzled. “What do you mean done? With the entire project?”

“I am good, but not that good,” Margaery said with a laugh and an expression Sansa had not seen on her before. In the moment Sansa took to place it, it had already disappeared again and Margaery settled on a cryptic smile. “I decided to adapt my rhythm to yours and did a night shift of my own. So until tonight I’m all done.”

If there was a further explanation to it, Margaery didn’t offer it, just kept smiling at her through a sip of wine, and Sansa didn’t ask. Didn’t need to.

**Day 27 – 21:40**

It had been a day that had taken everything out of her, to a point where she barely recognized herself.

Not because something particularly bad had happened, but countless little things had accumulated throughout the day and at last culminated in an argument with a colleague. 

Not once in all the years of her professional life had Sansa cried at work. No matter what unfair or overwhelming shit had been thrown at her, she’d kept it together. It was her strength, it was what made her great at emergency medicine; the worse things got the calmer she became. Usually. She had not cried today either. Not at work, not when changing in the locker room, not while walking home. She had honestly thought and hoped that if she just made it home, had a shower and went to bed early tonight it would all be okay.

But standing in the shower that night, as her body had relaxed under the hot stream of water, she had lost the fight to keep it together. Weeks of suppressed stress had crashed together over her and overwhelmed her.

The tears had started to fall and had not stopped since then, not through any part of her nightly routine she’d tried to uphold. She hadn’t bothered with dinner, instead dragged herself to bed and had rolled up in it, the covers drawn to her chin. The tears didn’t cease then and she’d given up the will to wipe them away.

The quiet darkness of her bedroom usually had a calming effect on her, only today the silence appeared to trigger every single negative thought that she usually kept at bay.

For so long she’d tried to have a positive perspective on things, but tonight it felt impossible. Their situation at work… it just wasn’t getting any better. Experts predicted the peak of the pandemic for the end of the next month, meaning that the worst was yet to come, a return to normality not even close within reach… and she just, she was at her limit. 

Her phone vibrating with an incoming call on the nightstand halted her tears for the length of a heartbeat and then they came back with full force, overwhelming her once more.

Sansa didn’t need to check the screen to know it was Margaery.

Sansa’s throat closed up. She hugged a pillow to her chest, pressing her tear streaked face into it, torn between wanting to talk to her, and finding the idea unbearable. Talking to her now hearing her voice now, would be like being hugged while crying; it wouldn’t stop the tears, it would let her cry harder.

It took forever until the phone stopped ringing leaving Sansa in the silent darkness.

Sansa hugged the pillow tighter to her chest, quietly sobbed into it, stronger even when it started vibrating again. It figured that Margaery didn’t just give up after one try.

She tried another two times afterwards.

Just when Sansa thought she’d given up for tonight, Margaery’s voice sounded through her bedroom.

“Sansa?” Weakly Sansa turned her head to the cracked open window, covered by curtains. Margaery let a couple of seconds pass and then called out again. “Sansa?”

Hearing her voice had the expected effect of worsening the tight feeling in her chest. But at the same time, hearing Margaery sounding so anxious and strained with concern… how was she supposed to ignore that?

Gathering the remains of her strength, Sansa wiped at her face and reached out for her phone. When she hit the redial button on one of the four missed calls, Margaery answered before the first dial tone had finished.

“Oh thank God,” she breathed into the phone. “I was already considering calling the police.”

“I’m okay.” As soon as she’d croaked out the lie, Sansa knew that she was not even close to being convincing.

“You don’t sound okay.”

“No,” Sansa admitted, closing her eyes, holding tightly onto the phone.

“Do you want to talk about it?,” came Margaery’s gentle offer.

“No.”

Sansa refused to unload this on her. What they had, it was light, it was easy… she wanted to keep it that way. Margaery was her escape from all the bad stuff, all that scared her. She didn’t deserve to be burdened with her problems and fears. 

“Okay,” Margaery said in gentle acceptance. “I’ll be out here for a while still, just-- I’m here.”

Without hanging up the call, Sansa turned onto her left side, just in time to see the vague gleam of a candle being lit on Margaery’s balcony. She watched the soft light through the curtain with the phone on speaker next to her; neither of them saying a word, but not ending the call either.

For the first time in over two hours Sansa’s tears ceased a little.

Never before in her life had someone managed to give Sansa such comfort through a physical distance. Just knowing that she was there...her presence was everything.

**Day 28 – 10:20**

Waking up after crying yourself to sleep could go in two different directions. Either all that had stressed you was out of your system and you felt considerably better,or it brought along an emptiness, that felt even more horrible.

Waking up this morning it was the latter for Sansa.

Even though she had the morning off, wouldn’t have to get ready for work until noon, she was awake by six. Still feeling so drained that just laid there for the duration of a couple of hours, staring at the ceiling.

A pounding headache enwrapped her, her eyes felt heavy and swollen from all the crying; what was perhaps the worst in all of it, was the sense of shame she couldn’t shake off. Losing her composure like she had, when nothing really bad had happened… it made her feel weak, like a failure.

The one thing that, maybe not lifted her spirits, but pushed the dark thoughts to the back of her mind for a moment was the box with a lemon cake she got delivered to her door at ten o’clock.

Sansa had a brief glance out of her kitchen window, finding Margaery’s balcony as neatly set up as ever, but empty. Indecisive in the mess that was her mood this morning, she wasn’t sure if she was glad about that or not. It was not like she wanted Margaery to see her with her bloodshot, swollen eyes, but she also longed to see her smile more than ever before.

Not bothering with a plate, Sansa took the cardboard box and a fork back to her bedroom and settled underneath still warm covers, her back propped against pillows she’d piled against the headboard.

When she dialed her number Margaery picked up after the first ring. “Good morning!”

“Hi,” Sansa felt painfully aware of how much her voice did not sound like her own yet, but at least it wasn’t quite as broken anymore as it had been last night. 

“Hey, I’m glad you called.”

With the way a gentle smile was audible in Margaery’s voice, Sansa felt the need to smile as well, but didn’t manage. “Thank you for the lemon cake. You really didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.” There was ruffling sounds in the background that suggested Margaery was still in bed. “I thought you could use some comfort food.”

“Thank you,” Sansa gave back. 

“You’re welcome,” Margaery returned and a short moment of silence followed. “Are you feeling better?”

Sansa considered claiming that she’d never felt bad, but knew that her bordering on dramatic behaviour made denial futile. “I think it’s too early to tell.” 

“Anything you want to talk about?” Margaery probed carefully.

Sansa had put the phone on speaker next to her and stared at the fork hovering over her favourite dessert.

“Not really,” she sighed. “I mean… it’s nothing to talk about really. It was just a bad day. My nerves got the better of me.”

Another small silence followed while Sansa dwelled on the first bite of cake. 

“Yeah, I have been wondering when that would happen.”

She said it matter-of-factly, like she’d been expecting it for weeks, when it had hit Sansa herself out of nowhere last night. Sansa didn’t reply, but instead brought another piece of cake to her lips. 

“Sorry, if that sounded patronizing,” Margaery added. “But you just, I mean, you had like what? Three days off in a month? That’s not a lot even under normal circumstances.”

Sansa dropped her fork and let her head fall back into her pillows. “I don’t… I have colleagues who have are single-parents, doing double shifts and a two-hour commute every day--”

“And you think you don’t have the right to be overwhelmed because you’re not struggling with those things?” Margaery had the rare talent to keep her voice gentle without having her words lose any of their urgency. “Your colleagues might have more on their shoulders, but they also get to go home to their families every night; they have someone to catch them, hold them.”

Against her will tears clouded Sansa’s eyes and she had to close them and take a couple of breaths to catch herself. 

“That night,” Margaery continued quietly. “When my nerves got the better of me… that was for various reasons, but what tilted the scale was that I wouldn’t be with my family for any of it. I moved out from home when I was eighteen years old, and I am good at being on my own… but not to know when I’d get to see my parents, my grandmother, my brothers again…” She took a deep breath. “No, I don’t think things are easier because you have just yourself to take care of.”

Her voice sounded closer now, like it was not only sounding from the phone speaker aymore. Sansa stared at the white curtains and feebly tried to make her out. 

“You being there, that helped,” Sansa said with more emotion in her voice than she’d intended. “Last night I mean. Knowing that you were there.”

“Good,” Margaery said softly. “Having you there helped me a lot too... and not just that night.”

**Day 34 – 19:10**

“Can you believe how hot,” Sansa drew back the curtain enthusiastically and her mouth grew dry, the last two words hard to get off her lips, “... it is.”

“I know,” Margaery hummed and slipped her sunglasses down to her nose, giving Sansa a content smile. “Finally some proper weather.”

Sansa would have been appalled by the statement, -twenty five degrees in early spring was not proper weather, it was another sign of the advancing apocalypse. But the sight in front of her temporarily robbed her of the ability to form words, let alone compelling arguments. 

Margaery had taken a lawn chair out on her balcony, and was propped on it in nothing but a pair of white bikini panties. She had not bothered with any further covering up, and didn’t appear to have any plan to do so now with Sansa looking directly at her. 

She, well, Sansa had gathered that Margaery had a gorgeous figure, but she’d have to be dead and buried not to be affected by the vision she presented. She looked like a goddess, with the flat toned stomach, smooth skin that held the remains of a tan, her breasts… Sansa’s inability to take her eyes off them made her feel like a horny fourteen year old boy seeing a woman’s bare chest for the first time. 

“You look like you don’t share that sentiment,” Margaery had pushed her shades back up, the hint of a smile curling at her lips. 

“Not exactly,” Sansa said slowly. Certainly learning to appreciate it though, she added in her thoughts. 

“How was work?”

She  _ had _ to be kidding with the small talk.

“Stressful. But I mean… it was fine? You know… stressful. But I made it out on time. So there is that.”

Sansa released a small breath. She was so focused with keeping her eyes on Margaery’s face, she could barely care about her stumbling, altogether ineloquent words.

“Good. That’s a first in over a week,” Margaery noted, smiling her typical soft smile, as she sat up, one leg on either side of the lawnchair, rubbing her palms over her legs.

She didn’t manage more than a nod this time around. Hating that she couldn’t get it together. Margaery sat there so casually as if she was fully clothed. If it wasn’t a great deal to her, it should not be for Sansa.

Sansa cleared her throat. “Maybe, I mean, I think I left my nicely air-conditioned work place a bit too quickly.” Finally tearing her eyes away from her, Sansa dropped back on the edge of her bed and busied herself with pulling her hair up into a ponytail. “I am not made for these temperatures.”

“It’s barely twenty five degrees,” Margaery pointed out. 

“Yeah anything over twenty is out of my comfort zone.”

Margaery tilted her head back in a laugh; Sansa dug one hand into the edge of the mattress. 

“How did you survive the last five years here?”

“In a modern, proper insulated flat.”

“Ah, yes.” Margaery leaned to the side and reached for her glass with iced tea. “The joy of living in historical buildings. They draw you in with the high ceilings and the original tiles and tapware, but never mention the seething temperatures.” 

“Exactly.” Sansa managed, mesmerized by the drops of condensation that had collected on the glass that Margaery brought to her lips; watching the bead at the bottom that threatened to drop to her—

“Speaking of,” she said, getting to her feet quickly. “I’ll go take a shower.”

An ice cold one.

**Day 35 – 2:42**

The shower had helped, a little. And so had Margaery showing her some mercy and pulling on a plain white shirt; albeit that still had left only little to the imagination. 

They’d spent the rest of the evening in their usual manner, sitting and talking like every night; a sense of normality to the point where Sansa had almost managed to refocus, to forget about what had happened before and all that had sparked inside her. 

Until at night that was.

Brick buildings had a way of accumulating heat like an oven and Sansa was lying awake sleepless in the lingering heat of her bedroom. The part of her brain that wasn’t frustrated with the inability to sleep, kept on returning to the early evening, in particular to the image of Margaery’s body.

The clock on her nightstand showed 2:42 when Sansa had to admit to herself that it was neither the temperatures, nor confusion that kept her awake, but a feeling at the pit of her stomach, a restlessness not too far from anxiety, but eventually not that.

She was turned on. So frustratingly much she could have punched a wall.

It wasn’t exactly the first time her thoughts about Margaery took this direction. She’d harboured a crush on Margaery for a while now, there was no point in denying that. For four weeks now, they had spent countless hours with long conversations and more or less plain obvious flirting. She honestly doubted any man or woman, regardless of sexuality, could spend such a vast amount of time with the gorgeous brunette and not end up attracted to her.

It was just… until today, her infatuation with Margaery had remained more on the platonic, romantic side. She enjoyed their banter, her wit, her presence, her eloquence. Obviously Sansa found her attractive- how could she not?- even fully dressed the woman was a vision.

But seeing her today… Sansa closed her eyes to will the images away but only found them clearer than before. Margaery’s softly tanned skin, toned legs, the way her white bikini bottom had spanned over her hips, the outline of her folds underneath the thin material …

Her hand took its course on its own accord; slipped below the sheet covering her midriff and inside already damp panties. She hovered her fingertips over her clit for the length of a breath, hesitated, but at last surrendered to what she yearned for, what had kept her awake until now.

It didn’t take more than a couple of well placed strokes against her clit for the anxious pressure in her stomach to dissolve and shift into a warm pleasurable sensation that radiated through her body.

With her eyes fluttering close Sansa allowed herself to fall into it. She bit her lower lip, as the image of Margaery returned to her mind and with it the circles over her clit grew faster, to keep up with the pressure she felt building.

The hand that had been clutching at her sheets, came up to her breast with the memory of Margaery’s. Imagining that it was hers she massaged, that it was those taunt pink nipples she was rolling between her fingers, her hot and slick wetness underneath her fingertips. 

A familiar sound reached her and in her growing arousal it took Sansa a moment to place it; when she did, her hands froze in their movements and her eyes shot open.

Through her wide open bedroom window, she watched Margaery step out on the balcony. Sansa could barely make out more than her silhouette, as she just stood there for a couple of seconds breathing in the fresh air, before settling on her usual spot on the chair, crossing her legs and her arms, and leaning back. Sansa could make out her light sleepshirt that barely reached the top of her thighs. She saw the delicate line of her neck, her wavy hair pulled up into a loose ponytail. 

Fighting her laboured breathing Sansa lay there as still as she could and studied her; it was too dark for Sansa to make out her face properly, but the way she sat there, the way she held her head… she was looking at her.

A sense of astonishment settled within Sansa, while she still lay perfectly still, albeit struggling to still keep her breaths slow and even.

Was she watching her? Thinking she was sleeping?

Every interaction, every conversation with Margaery so far had held a certain level of intimacy; but never more than now, when she couldn’t make out her face, only could feel her eyes on her. It stirred something within Sansa, brought the remains of pleasure settled in her stomach and her own wetness beneath her fingertips back to her consciousness. Stronger than anything else. Stronger than any consideration for consequences.

The fingers that still rested over her core picked up what they had been doing.

She managed to keep her touch discreet at first, but with every second passing, with every tight circle over her clit the less she found it in herself to care; almost most more than the yearning for release, became the need to have Margaery know what she was doing, to know that she was doing it with her in mind.

Could she tell how she touched herself? How her hips bucked into the touch of her fingers, how her back curved off the mattress every time she pinched her nipples.

She had to fight to keep her eyes open the more the pleasure built, the faster her hands worked on her bundle of nerves. If she concentrated enough she thought she was able to make out Margaery’s face in the darkness and it was enough to push her over the edge.

Sansa tilted her head back with a quiet groan, wanting to, if there still was any, to erase the absolute last doubt in Margaery’s mind. She kept on circling over her sensitive centre for a good while after, until it became too much, her fingers only stilling completely over her wet core when she opened her eyes again, found Margaery still sitting unmoving.

Sansa’s breathing only slowly came back to a normal rhythm. She rolled onto her side and smiled when she saw Margaery’s shoulders sink in the release of a heavy breath. 

**Day 37 – 17:20**

“L 8,” Margaery looked at her expectantly when she named the combination and smirked like she’d already known the answer before Sansa could even check her sheet.

“Hit,” Sansa bit out in frustration and marked the spot with a red x; right in the centre of her carrier.

They were in their usual spots, Sansa by her window, Margaery on her balcony, and had been playing this friendly round of battleship for about an hour now. Or, Sansa had been playing; Margaery appeared to be set on destroying her

“I hope you aren’t a sore loser?” Margaery teased, way too satisfied with herself while marking the spot on her own sheet. 

“I haven’t lost yet,” Sansa told her pointedly.

Only, technically she absolutely had. This last move from Margaery marked a hit into Sansa’s last afloat ship on her game sheet, while in the meantime she had only managed to find and sink one of Margaery’s submarines.

“I hope you are not expecting any mercy from me.” Margaery shot her a competitive look that went through and through.

The vibrating of her phone saved Sansa from having to find a comeback that did not show how affected such an objectively innocent statement had left her. 

“It’s work,” she said with a sigh, looking at the screen as the phone continued ringing, when she glanced back over to Margaery she watched her shoulders sink and her victorious smirk disappear. 

“Don’t answer it,” she pleaded.

Sansa bit her lip, her eyes darting back to the incoming call. “I can’t just not answer it.”

“Yes, you can,” Margaery insisted. “It’s your day off.”

“It might just be a question about a patient.”

“Or it might be them asking you to come in -again- because God forbid you have two days in a row off.”

The ringing stopped before Sansa could make up her mind and she stared at the missed call for a moment, then she put her game sheet aside and pulled herself up by the railing onto her feet. “Let me give them a quick call back.”

“Sansa,” Margaery said sternly. 

Sansa stood there and shrugged. Llike always when she felt cornered she raised her chin in a belligerent manner. What did she expect her to do? In times like these she couldn’t just not help out.

“It’s not like I am doing anything important right now anyway.”

“Always a pleasure to spend time with you as well,” Margaery deadpanned. 

With a roll of her eyes Sansa gestured towards the battleship game. “You know what I mean. It’s not like I have any important binding engagements these days.”

Something appeared in Margaery’s eyes, a particular glint that caused Sansa to grip her phone a little tighter, a completely unreasonable, but not entirely unpleasant, nervousness coiling in her stomach. 

“Hypothetically, what if you did?”

“I don’t though.”

Mirroring her, Margaery lifted her chin, the smallest hint of a smile on her lips, but there was a sense of reluctance that was untypical for her. “Non-hypothetical then,” she opened slowly. “I’d like to take you on a date. Tomorrow.”

Unable to help the beaming smile that spread over her face, Sansa watched a dazzling smile appear on Margaery’s face. Yet, she gave a small shake of her head, more in disbelief than negation. “How would that even work?”

“So that’s a no?”

“It’s a ‘how would that even work?’” Sansa repeated, still smiling, still overwhelmed.

How  _ could _ that work? All public spaces were closed. Leaving the house was limited to grocery shopping, doctor visits and -for those like herself in a system-relevant occupation- going to work.

They couldn’t just go out for a drink, dinner or a movie; not even a walk.

“Let that be my concern,” Margaery was unfazed, appeared not even the tiniest bit discouraged. “You worry about being ready, say, tomorrow at six?”

It was ridiculous; but she was too intrigued to tell her no.

“Okay,” she breathed the agreement in a soft chuckle. 

Margaery gave her most gorgeous smile, before pulling herself to her feet in a swift move. She gathered what was left of the game they had played. “You’ll forgive me if I cut this round short. I have some arrangements to make.”

“It’s not like I had any chance of winning at this point.”

“About that,” with a tilt of her head and an amused face, Margaery crossed her arms and pressed the writing pad against her chest. “Next time make sure I don’t see the reflection in the window behind you.”

**Day 39 – 00:22**

“I had a wonderful time tonight.” 

Sansa’s head rolled lazily to the side, finding Margaery’s eyes; the tiredness that Sansa felt in herself, was evident in them likewise. It was past midnight and she’d have to get up early tomorrow, already looking at only five hours of sleep if they left this very minute, but for the life of her she didn’t want to go. 

Having Margaery this close, while nothing short of torture and a considerable test for her willpower, was addictive. Seeing her face when she spoke, the way her brows furrowed when she gave a serious answer, the way she licked her lips before starting wordy explanation, the way her hair moved when she tilted her head to the side... Sansa had noticed all of those things in prior conversations, but with the lack of usual distance, it was a little like switching to high definition on a TV. She could have stayed there and admired her face for hours; she sort of had done that. 

“I know the food was maybe not first date appropriate, but you said you missed cinema snacks, plus I figured we could have dinner at an appropriate distance every night if we wanted to.”

Sansa overlooked the empty movie theatre another time. “It was amazing,” she breathed. 

All day she’d been in nearly giddy excitement. She had tried to get a clue out of Margaery in countless text messages, asking her what to wear, if she should save her appetite for the date, and Margaery had been frustratingly vague about all of it. 

The expected set up, seeing preparations on Margaery’s balcony had never come. Her living room remained empty and dark throughout the day. 

In her nervousness Sansa had been ready shortly after five. She sat dressed up in her favourite pair of black jeans and a silken light blue top that brought out her eyes in her living room and calmed her nerves with a wine spritzer. 

The ring of the door she had half expected, but still a nervous fluttering had come to her stomach, that had only grown stronger when instead of the anticipated food delivery, or even Margaery in a hazmat suit -her imagination had gone a little wild on her with that one- a stranger's voice had told her through the intercom that her taxi was waiting. 

She’d gotten in the car despite her nerves and Margaery being nowhere in sight. The taxi had taken her downtown, and for about two seconds she’d doubted her judgement when they had pulled into a back alley in the commercial district; then she’d spotted Margaery. She’d been standing next to an emergency exit and a trash container, looking out of place, but nothing short of spectacular in her red midi dress and matching red lipstick. 

“You’re taller at this distance,” was the first thing Margaery had said to her when she’d gotten out of the car. 

Sansa had smirked, intrigued by the height difference she’d not noticed either until now. “You’re even prettier at this distance,” she’d given back and was almost instantly rewarded with a soft blush coming to Margaery’s cheeks. 

It had been the strangest way to start a date; all this, keeping an appropriate distance, no hug, no kiss on the cheek, not even an awkward handshake. They’d just stood there for a couple of seconds smiling at each other; albeit with more familiarity than Sansa had expected. 

Margaery had led her inside and apologized for the lack of an appropriate meeting place while they walked through blank corridors. “I couldn’t very well lead you through the front entrance,” she’d concluded and held a door open to her. 

Only upon entering the actual venue Sansa had recognized where she was. 

She’d been in the historic movie theatre a couple of times before, but upon entering through emergency exits had not recognized it until she stood in front of the large wall high screen and had seen the cosy dark red seats, the small round tables with lamps on top of them illuminating the room softly.

And now, four hours after the movie had ended they were still there, Margaery smiled at her almost shyly, brushing golden brown hair that fell in luscious, perfectly set waves over her shoulders, behind her ear. She took Sansa in for a long moment; and again Sansa thought how strange it was to be right next to her. Not more, but also not less than the appropriate one and a half meters away; a little more than an arm length, one empty couple seat separating them. 

“Aren’t you glad that you didn’t go to work now?”

“How couldn’t I be? It’s not every day you get to break the law going out on a date.”

“We are not breaking the law,” Margaery clarified. “This is a private showing, we are sticking to the appropriate distance--”

“Ain’t that a shame,” Sansa interrupted her quietly, holding Margaery’s gaze on her through lowered eyes. 

Margaery’s smile was coy, but held a sadness too, a sense of frustration. “Yes, it kind of beats the purpose of having the place to ourselves. I think this was the most innocent date I ever had in a movie theatre.”

“Was it?” Sansa smiled through the tension between them, watched how Margaery placed her hand flat on the free seat. “Care to elaborate?”

“Well.” Fingertips drew over the velvet material. “You can’t very well expect me to give away all my moves when I still intend to use them on you.”

Placing her own hand on the empty seat, she watched how they slowly moved closer to each other until there were barely millimetres still between their fingertips. 

“It’s not nice to tease like that.” Her eyes were still drawn to their hands resting so close to each other. It took everything not to just throw any caution in the wind and reach out, hold her hand.

“Who ever said I was nice?” Margaery quipped, but her tone was breathy, her eyes flitting from where their hands almost touched back up to Sansa’s face. “I like horror movies for first dates.”

“How romantic.”

“You’d be surprised. Cuddling up to a girl in fear, hiding my face against the crook of her neck through the scary scenes… things can get romantic fairly fast.”

Sansa looked at her intently, tried to imagine how it would be to have her cuddled up to her side, her hot breath on her neck, her lips grazing her skin… a look out of those doe eyes when she slowly pulled back; the mental image brought a pleasant pull to her lower stomach. 

“Look at you,” Sansa breathed through a smile. “making horror movies compelling to me.”

Margaery eyes remained on Sansa. “I very much would like to kiss you right now.” 

The way she said those words were just about the sexiest thing Sansa had ever heard. 

“I’d like that,” she answered quietly, eyes fitting to Margaery’s lips. How easy it would have been just to lean in, just to forget all precaution, everything that was going on in the world and just have this instant, not thinking about consequences. 

For a moment the tensing muscles in Margaery’s forearm, the twitching of her fingers let Sansa think she would reach out, but at the last moment she pulled back instead, curling her hand into a fist, a sad smile on her face.

“One day, darling.” 

**Day 42 – 13:26**

“I should have told you that I have an absolute aversion to couples who go grocery shopping together.”

Sansa swallowed a comment that questioned their relationship status and just kept moving in between the fruit shelves. 

“And why is that?”

“Have you seen one? It’s like they switch to only one brain as soon as they enter the supermarket.”

Margaery loaded a bunch of tomatoes into a plastic bag and, with a grimace, gave an improv demonstration of what she meant. 

“‘Oh honey bear,’” she purred in a high voice. “‘We  _ have  _ to get parsnips. We’ve been meaning to try that soup recipe for forever. Oh! Look over there, grapes! We haven’t had grapes in forever. No, not that kind, that one gives me diarrhoea!””

Placing a few tomatoes in her own cart, Sansa laughed lightly. “You’re horrible.”

“Maybe, but I’m also right,” Margaery clarified, dropping the tomatoes into her basket, making a few steps towards her, stopping at the appropriate distance, while Sansa scanned the different kinds of fresh herbs. She tilted her head, watching her. “You shop without a list I see.”

Sansa slowly turned her head to face her. “Yes?”

“One of those then,” Margaery noted as if she was supposed to understand what she meant and strode past her on to picking out zucchinis. 

Picking a bundle of basil and cilantro Sansa followed after Margaery. “I do not need a list. I know the recipe by heart,” she defended herself, eyeing the bell pepper in Margaery’s hand. “Which is why I can tell you that you don’t want the green pepper.”

Margaery placed the vegetable in her basket still. “I can’t just put it back now that I’ve already touched it,” she explained ignoring Sansa’s disapproving look. “I’m sure it will work just fine.”

Maybe she did have a point about couples going to buy groceries together, Sansa thought, going on past the refrigerators.

It had been Sansa’s idea to go to the store together. She’d figured it was something they could do together without any major efforts; a chance to have a conversation in person that could not be overheard by anyone who opened their window in either of their buildings.

The plan was to cook together -meaning via video chat- and later on eat together in their usual spots. When Margaery had warned her that her cooking skills were rather basic, Sansa had dismissed the concern; confident that she’d be able to talk her through it. Seeing her now with a can of sieved tomatoes in hand instead of the tomato puree the recipe required, she wondered if she had not been too optimistic there.

Nevertheless Sansa kept her silence through several questionable items being placed in Margaery’s basket until she had to step in when she saw her reaching for a vanilla yogurt instead of the plain Greek yogurt.

“I’m trying to figure out if you are really so clueless in cooking or just trying to get out of ever having to do this again,” Sansa said, sincerely wondering, after impatiently standing by until Margaery finally discovered the right yogurt.

Tossing her hair over her shoulder as she turned to her Margaery smirked and lifted her chin to counter their height difference. “Or it could be that I just try to prolong spending time with you?”

Damn her. Just when she’d settled on being annoyed with her.

“Is that so?”

Instinctively Sansa wanted to take a step towards her, stopped herself, remembering that she shouldn’t. She’d figured spending time with Margaery in a more public location would make up for the lack of their usual spatial segregation, but the draw to be close to her, to touch her, was just as strong as it had been in the empty movie theatre.

“I would in fact not be opposed to making this a weekly ritual. Just as long as I can pick my own recipes in the future.”

**Day 46 – 23:20**

It had been Sansa’s turn to pick a movie. Something she’d given way too much thought and consideration in her attempt to find something that was entertaining while also critically acclaimed. Margaery seemed to have a natural talent for finding those kinds of films, seemed to enjoy them a great deal.

The movie they had ended up watching together -Sansa lounging stomach down on her bed, Margaery with her feet up in her lawn chair- did live up to the flaming reviews it had received. Unfortunately for her those had failed to mention the twenty minute love scene towards the end of it. Not that Sansa generally minded tasteful staged erotica; it even fit well within the plot of the movie, had not been added just for the sake of having a love scene.

But, well, watching the two women on screen, ever so slowly undress each other, share deep kisses, caress each other and react to those touches… it was impossible not to be affected by that. Watching all of that simultaneously with Margaery, added to that effect.

They had thrown comments back and forth through the entire movie; those had grown sparer when the sense of where the story was going had emerged, and died shortly thereafter.

The credits rolled over the screen of her laptop mere minutes after the images of two naked bodies lying entangled in-between sheets, and Sansa watched them scroll for a while until she dared to take a glance towards Margaery again, who took a deep breath and another couple of seconds before meeting her eyes.

“That was a beautiful ending,” Margaery said.

“It was,” Sansa agreed, closing her laptop as she rolled onto her side to properly face Margaery. “The whole movie though, just really great storytelling  _ and  _ very aesthetically compelling .”

They simply looked at each other for a prolonged silence; not needing any words to understand each other and what they felt, what they longed for in those seconds.

Sansa was only in a pair of shorts and a thin top; both would have made it terribly easy to repeat what had happened the other night; what neither of them had mentioned. So very easily she could have rolled onto her back, pushed a hand into her shorts, and touched herself like she wanted to be touched; all while Margaery watched.

Just the idea of doing it made her press her legs together tightly with growing arousal.

It surprised her how seriously she considered it. Fingers of the hand that rested just above her knee drew patterns, but without the darkness surrounding her and by being so plainly in sight for Margaery, her courage left her. Withdrawing her hand, she placed it on the mattress in front of herself, drawing circles over the sheets instead.

“You know,” Margaery sounded a bit throaty. “They say that sex complicates everything, but for those two, it just really seemed like it made all so much clearer.”

“Yes, absolutely.”

“I can’t help but wonder…” She didn’t finish her sentence, the way she looked at her made it unnecessary.

“Me too,” Sansa gave back.

“Do you think that, under normal circumstances—”

“I think things would be crystal clear by now,” Sansa bit away a smile, amused with her own pun to an unjustified level. 

Under normal circumstances, without being forced to keep a distance, they would have kissed on their first date, and going by the sheer gravitational force Margaery had on her even through the distance, Sansa doubted that they would have left it at just kisses.

“Would you be interested in exploring what is possible under these exceptional circumstances we find ourselves in?”

**Day 49 – 06:07**

“Oh fuck, Sansa,” Margaery’s voice was hoarse with arousal, with endeavour. “Please, please don’t stop.” 

“You’re so greedy,” Sansa laughed heavily, spreading her legs further, two fingers moving in and out of herself in slow deep thrusts; she hummed at the sensation. “Mm, you should feel how wet I am for you.”

Margaery moaned. 

Sansa’s hips bucked up against her own hand, as she pressed firmly against her clit, her fingers tightening around the phone. “My pussy is soaked, Marg… Fuck, if you could only feel it…”

“I can’t wait to.”

Sansa picked up her pace at the desperate yearning in Margaery’s voice, closing her eyes. 

“The things I want to do to you… oh you have no idea.”

“Tell me, darling. Please, tell me.”

“I’ll fuck you so good,” Sansa breathed, circling her clit in a few tight circles. 

“Tell me how.”

“When we finally meet, we won’t even make it to the bedroom,” Sansa vowed, closing her eyes with the image. “I’ll pin you against your front door. I can’t wait to touch you, Marg, all of you. Those perfect tits… are you touching them now?”

“Yes,” Margaery groaned.

“I’ll pinch your nipples until their all nice and hard for me, ready for my mouth on them.”

A proper moan sounded from Margaery and shot excitement through Sansa’s body. 

“I’ll put my lips everywhere on your body,” Sansa went on, she hardly could keep her voice steady, had trouble verbalising what was so perfectly clear in her mind. “You’ll be barely able to stand up by the time I get to your pussy, you’ll beg me to fuck you.”

“Yes,” Margaery was barely above a whisper. “Oh God, I need you to fuck me.”

“Three fingers at once,” Sansa bit out, feeling her own climax come closer and closer into reach. “Right there against the door. I’m fucking you so hard Marg, you will feel me for days.”

Sansa’s orgasm rolled over her heavily, toes curling as her fingers did within her, her thumb pressing against her clit. 

“Sansa…” 

It took her a moment to come down from her high, to process the near desperation that still lingered in Margaery’s tone, the heavy breathing that suggested she was close but not quite there, but almost at the edge. 

“You’re so sexy just like that Marg, that moment just before you cum for me… Your pussy squeezing my fingers… I’ll pound in and out of you, my body pressing against yours--”

The sound of Margaery coming caused Sansa’s clit to throb with fresh arousal, closing her eyes she smiled and listened to her moaning curse words, waited idly until her breathing slowed back down, her smile broadening when she heard Margaery’s soft chuckle.

“Good morning,” she greeted, still softly laughing after coming down from climax.

Sansa rolled onto her side, clutching the sheets to her chest, feeling the remains of wetness, a pleasant soreness between her legs. “Good morning to you.”

“You know…” Sansa could hear the ruffling of sheets, suggesting that Margaery shifted in her bed as well She imagined her stretching in white sheets, arching her spine. “I’m getting more and more appreciative of waking up with you.”

“Even greater, I imagine that you can go back to sleep now,” Sansa pointed out. 

Margaery had insisted on being woken with a call when Sansa did for her early shift and only this morning Sansa had understood the purpose. 

They had moved onto this new stage in their relationship only a couple of days ago. Their first call of this particular kind had still harboured some awkwardness, trying to figure out what worked for both of them; both of them shyer than usual around each other how to approach it. It was fair to say that they had overcome that fairly quickly. 

“Don’t tell me you do not appreciate this energizing start to your day,” Margaery gave back. 

“Oh I do,” Sansa assured, throwing a look at the clock that told her she would definitely be late; not that she could bring herself to care. “It just makes getting up so much harder.”

“Just imagine,” the longing, one of a different kind, was back in Margaery’s voice. “How very hard getting up would be with me actually in your bed, cuddling up to you, refusing to let you go.”

“Honestly, I can’t wait.”

“Yeah, me neither.“

**Day 55 – 23:58**

“I want to be with you.” 

Sansa laid in her bed in post orgasmic bliss, when Margaery made the declaration. 

“I mean… really be with you, physically,” she added after a silent moment.

“I do too,” Sansa admitted softly. She was on her back, looking up at the ceiling, with one hand lying over her chest, feeling her heart rate pick up after it had just slowed, the other one tightly around her phone. 

“Have you seen the press conference this morning?”

“I have,” Sansa confirmed.

Of course she had. She limited her exposure to the news but the caption of this televised press conference she had not been able to ignore. “ _ Budding couples to stay apart or live together _ .”

The government’s spokesperson had made it clear that people switching in and out of households was not tolerated, as it defeated the purpose of the lockdown and fostered a transmission of the virus; and concluded rather casually that as a half of a couple currently in separate households one should simply “make your choice and stick with it”.

“And?” Margaery pressed carefully. “What do you think?”

“I think,” Sansa started, her reply drawn out. “That we should carefully consider the risk you’d be taking.”

“That  _ I _ ’d be taking?”

“Yes,” she answered, trying to bring to words what she’d been callously weighing back and forth in her mind all day long. “Because of my work. Living together would mean putting you at a risk.”

Margaery seemed to consider it. “You work under all necessary precautions though,” she said then. “I mean you have colleagues who go home to their kids doing the same work.”

“Yes,” Sansa gave in reluctantly. 

“And considering that I’m young, healthy, good-looking--”

Sansa chuckled. “Don’t forget modest.”

“What I’m saying is, I am not a risk group,” Margaery insisted. 

Rolling onto her side, Sansa pressed the covers to her chest. Despite her lingering uncertainty, a smile spread over her face. Margaery had clearly thought this through as much as she had.

Sansa herself had weighed it back and forth in her mind for a while, ever since their first date, even before that. That she was still reluctant came from having seen too much at work. She worked with infected patients ninety percent of her day, and those were by far not all from the classic risk groups. Sure, the statistics said being young and healthy increased the chances of a mild course of symptoms… but what if--

The familiar sound of Margaery’s balcony door opening pulled her from her thoughts and had her look up. Dimly set lights of her living room illuminated her from behind and without a doubt Margaery knew exactly what she was doing, stepping out into the night air in nothing but a pair of panties and a thin strappy top.

Hanging up the phone, Sansa sat on the edge of her bed, noticing the appreciative once-over Margaery gave her bed sheet-clad form.

“I thought it couldn’t hurt to make my case in person,” Margaery said. Leaning forward on her balcony railing she looked at her seriously. “Look, Sansa. If this is too fast for you I get that, because, well, it kind of is.”

“It’s not that,” she firmly held Margaery’s eyes when she said it.

The tension lifted itself a bit off Margaery’s face, replaced by a reluctant smile. “Then what is it?”

Running a hand through her hair, Sansa sighed. “I think I’m scared.”

“Of putting me in danger?”

“No, well, yes, but that’s not all.” Sansa got to her feet, holding the sheet wrapped around herself as she stepped to the railing. 

It wasn’t easy to put it in words, even if the feeling in her chest was so very distinct. 

Meeting Margaery, getting to know her, had been so different from any other romantic encounter in her life. Having her so close, and simultaneously unreachable was what made it easy talking to her, opening up to her. When she was with her, talking to her, everything else became less important; they were in their ivory tower and the rest of the world didn’t matter. 

“What if everyday life ruins what we have now?” Sansa asked quietly, fighting the trembling that wanted to overpower her voice.

“I’m almost sure it will,” Margaery returned after a few seconds of contemplating,smiling at her despite her words.

“And you’re okay with that?”

Margaery’s smile broadened. “Sansa, what we have right now, is  _ wonderful _ -but it’s not real. It’s a fantasy, where neither of us has to take any risks or make ourselves vulnerable, and I want more than that. More than conversations at an appropriate distance… I want you as part of my everyday life. With all the good and the bad that will come with that.”

Her ability to always find the right words was astonishing and this time it had Sansa nodding almost instantly when Margaery had finished speaking. 

“Okay.”

Margaery’s smile was bright enough to light up the night. “Yes?”

“Let’s move in together,” Sansa confirmed with a laugh, feeling a little ridiculous that she’d ever hesitated.

**Day 56 – 12:44**

It was only noon and it already was the longest workday in Sansa’s professional life. For once not because of the high workload. Tonight she would pack a suitcase and go to Margaery. Tonight she would  _ be  _ with Margaery, and that had her as excited as a child waiting for their birthday; she was counting the minutes, literally. 

Her lunch break marked the goal of four hundred and four minutes to go and just when she’d sat down over a steaming plate of pasta, one of the unit's secretaries found her to tell her that she had a phone call.

She fought the initial knot in her stomach when she heard Margaery on the other end of the line, but couldn’t ignore that something in her tone sounded off when she greeted her.

Sansa sat down on the desk chair, her fingers winding tightly around the receiver. “Are you okay?” 

“No. I mean… I am, physically, just…” Margaery sounded so shaky, like she was on the verge of crying.

“Take a deep breath,” Sansa asked of her, her tone a lot steadier than she still felt. Breathing along with Margaery through the phone for a few times, helped her keep her own anxiety under control as well. “Now, tell me what happened.”

“My brother called me earlier. It’s my grandmother, she had a stroke.”

Sansa had to fight to not let the medically trained side of her brain take over immediately and ask all the clinical details that would help her understand how bad it was. That was not what Margaery needed right now, and most likely she wouldn’t know them anyway. 

“I’m so sorry, Marg. How is she?”

She could hear Margaery taking another deep breath. “Stable according to him. He said the doctors said it was only a mild one? A … transient something.”

Transient ischemic attack, Sansa though and felt herself calming a little. A condition similar to a stroke, but less severe, without tissue damage, which meant the symptoms didn’t last.

“They were able to take her home this week,” Margaery continued and huffed exasperated. “Can you believe it happened _ two weeks ago _ ? Those morons thought I’d be better off not knowing.”

Sansa couldn’t say that she disagreed with that. Worrying Margaery when she had no way to do something, couldn’t... come to see her.

It came together for her with that. Why Margaery’s brother had informed her today of all days. Why she’d called her at work.

In the government’s last declaration the ban of private travel had been lifted; it was still subjected to strong restrictions, but possible.

“You should go,” Sansa told her simply. 

“What?”

“To your family, to your grandmother.”

A long silence followed on the line, in which Sansa did her very best not to let the disappointment get the better of her, only somewhat successfully.

“I could still go tomorrow,” Margaery said quietly then. “We could—"

“No,” Sansa cut her off before she could speak the thought out loud. “It’d be an unnecessary risk for your grandmother.”

Margaery’s grandmother was part of the at risk group, generally because of her age and more so having just suffered a TIA. As things were right now, coming out of nearly two months of self-isolation Margaery could go without endangering her in any way. The moment they did as much as hold hands, kiss… No. Sansa knew better than to allow her to risk that.

“I had been really looking forward to, you know, living with you.”

Sansa played with the cord of the phone, smiling a little at the soft pout in Margaery’s voice. “I know. So have I. But I doubt you’d make the best roommate right now.”

“I’m so sorry, Sansa.”

“Don’t apologize,” Sansa pleaded, leaning back on the chair. “Your chance to go is now, we don’t know how things will have progressed in a week. You should go. I would if I was in your place.”

Margaery remained silent on the other end of the line, but Sansa sensed that she didn’t need anymore convincing.

“And on the positive side,” Sansa added. “We are already pretty great at the long distance thing, so that won’t be an obstacle for us.”

**Day 63 – 20:19**

Sansa touched the yellowing leaf of the fiscus with furrowed brows. Found it looked a little better than it had two days ago, but still rather sad and wilted. If it wouldn’t improve considerably by tomorrow, according to her mom’s advice she’d have to look at repotting the plant. And with her lack of a green thumb that would undoubtedly be the kiss of death for the poor fiscus. 

Looking after her potted plants while she was away had not seemed all that complicated when Margaery had asked her; Sansa just had not considered how much of a science it actually was. Four days in a row she’d let herself into Margaery’s apartment with the provided key and watered them -too generously as it turned out. 

She’d given up the excessive watering, but still came here every day, to check on the progress, to make sure the place was ventilated properly with the rising temperatures. She found a reason to go every day even without actively killing her plants.

It was... she just enjoyed being there. It made her feel close to Margaery. Closer than any phone or video call ever could. 

Two more weeks. What were two more weeks? It had sounded manageable when they had spoken about it. Margaery would go and visit her family for two weeks, and then once she came back, they would re-evaluate the situation and their relationship. 

For Sansa it had turned out within the first two hours of finding the balcony opposite to her bedroom window empty for the first time in almost months, just how long two weeks could be.

When the lockdown had first been announced, before she’d met Margaery, Sansa had honestly thought that with still going to work, with just how much her job took from her, she was immune against any kind of boredom; that sitting around at home watching TV in her free time would not be much of a challenge for her.

Well, it turned out it was. With Margaery gone, even when they spoke on the phone every day for at least an hour, her evenings dragged on all too long. She dreaded the day off she’d have tomorrow. And the eight days without Margaery that would follow after. 

Still, she couldn’t say she regretted pushing Margaery to go, no matter how much she missed her. It was the right thing to do. To be the reason why Margaery stayed while the wellbeing of her grandmother was hanging in the air would have been the worst possible start into this new stage of their relationship.

What they had, what had developed between them, that would still be there once Margaery was back. Going by the ever growing longing Sansa felt within her, she found there was indeed something to the saying of “absences making the heart grow fonder”. 

Her phone started to vibrate in the back pocket of her jeans and Sansa smiled when she saw Margaery’s name on the screen. “Hey, I’ve just been thinking about you.”

“Isn’t that a greeting every girl wants,” Margaery returned with a laugh. “May I ask the occasion?”

Sansa gave the yellowish leaf a final glance and left the balcony, closing the door behind her. “I just finished watering your plants actually.” 

“So you’re still at my place?” 

Sansa felt a little caught, more than she had to be. It wasn’t like she’d done any snooping around, not of the active kind at least; she’d merely taken in those things out in the open with a lot of focus. “Yes, I’m almost out the door though.”

“You know you’re welcome to stick around. I saw the weather forecast. Aren’t you melting away in your place? The balcony gets a nice breeze this time of the day.”

“I appreciate the offer,” Sansa said with a shake of her head. “But I’m deadly tired, not even this hellish heat will stop me from falling into bed and passing out tonight.”

“That’s a shame.” The smirk in her tone was audible. 

“What makes you say that?”

“Just you know… I hoped you’d make some time for me tonight.”

Sansa chuckled at the innuendo in her tone, her tiredness lifting itself palpably at that specific prospect.

“Well—” Sansa’s answer was cut off from a sound coming from the corridor.

She twisted around when she recognized it as the key turn in the front door and a moment later found Margaery standing there, phone still on her ear, carry-on in the other hand, the suspected smirk broadly on her face.

“You were saying?”

Biting her lip in a smile, Sansa needed a moment to take a first tentative step towards her, the phone still at her ear. “Just that… depending on what your plans are, I might be willing to make adjustments.”

They stood opposite of each other, their accustomed appropriate distance of one and a half meters separating them and almost simultaneously sunk the hand that held the phones to their ears.

“What are you doing here?” Sansa’s cheeks hurt from smiling. 

“I…” Margaery took half a step forward, never leaving Sansa out of her eyes. “Well, to be completely honest my grandmother banished me.”

“She did what?”

Nodding through a smile, Margaery came yet another tiny step closer. “She told me that my lethargic mood born out of boredom and sexual frustration was contra productive to her recovery process.”

“Sexual frustration, huh?” Pocketing her phone, Sansa dared a step forward as well. 

Margaery rolled her eyes playfully. “Well, her words not mine.”

“And now, what?” Sansa continued moving towards her, only a good thirty centimetres away from Margaery -closer than they’d ever been- she stopped, completely entranced by sparkling eyes that looked up at her. 

Margaery’s hand reached out tentatively, like she needed proof that this was not a dream, that Sansa wouldn’t disappear.

Her first touch was barely more than the ghost of one, and still both of them held their breath through it. The back of her hand skimmed against Sansa’s, fingertips taking the same course and then with a sense of eagerness, Margaery twisted her hand into Sansa’s; fingers entangled and holding on tightly. 

Until that very moment, Sansa had not considered herself touch-deprived, but thought that perhaps she needed to re-evaluate that. If holding someone’s hand, feeling the warmth of another woman’s palm against her own left her momentarily dizzy, then she had no idea how she would survive what she knew would come next. 

There was an unmistakable trembling when she brought her free hand up to Margaery’s face, that didn’t altogether cease even once she cupped the side of her face. She brushed a thumb along her cheek bone, and watched in perfect awe how Margaery’s eyes fluttered close, how she leaned into the touch. 

Her skin was as soft as she’d imagined it, her face a little flushed, a pleasant heat radiating against Sansa’s palm. Fingers tightened within her own when she traced the shape of Margaery’s lips and her eyes opened, finding Sansa’s as she pressed a kiss to her thumb, smiling softly, while her hand came to Sansa’s waist, clutching the fabric of her top, her pinky touching skin where the fabric had lifted. 

How innocent touches could hold such intensity came as a surprise to both of them; just as -with how long they had both waited for this- the gentle, almost shy tenderness of the moment. 

Sansa had imagined this moment so many times, had never had a doubt that they would be all over each other within seconds. But now that the moment was here, coming closer, leaning in excruciatingly slowly.

With barely a centimetre between them they halted, looking into each other’s eyes, feeling the other woman’s breath on each other’s skin; it made Sansa weak in her knees. 

When they closed the remaining distance their lips rested against each other for seconds, until either of them made any attempt to deepen it, and even then it stayed ever so chaste, did not move past more than feather soft brushes against each other. 

Yet, Sansa found herself breathless when she drew back again and looked into Margaery’s eyes. 

“There is no going back now,” Margaery breathed, her voice husky with the heaviness of the moment. “We’ll have to move in together.” 

Sansa smiled, dipping her fingers into Margaery’s hair. “I’ll go pack.”

Margaery gave her hand a small tug, taking a step backward and pulling Sansa along. “Later. You won’t be needing any clothes any time soon anyway.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this little tale. :)  
> Please -and I mean pleeease!- let me hear your thoughts, what you liked, or didn't like, in the comments.


End file.
